Tangled Passion

by Stanley Ejingiri

  “What?” he said, giving Nathan an angry look as if the young man was responsible for whatever he’d read in the letter. “Two slaves—male and female, escaped the Fort yesterday morning?”

  “Yes sir,” Nathan replied, nodding briefly. “We reckon it might have been the night before last night and Father seems to have a lot of confidence in you. He believes you can find them and return them to the Fort in no time.” Nathan said this very calmly, without any signs of intimidation by the huge man’s stare.

  “Old friend, Longstands,” Bushwacker said with a smile, absorbing the compliment and exposing his tobacco-stained teeth once again before taking another sip of his tea. “That's what we do young man, everybody on this island and across the West Indies knows me for my professional work and...”

  “When can you start?” Nathan interrupted. Every lost second mattered and he was not going to waste any more time listening to Bushwacker’s CV read aloud, while risking Ashana getting far and farther away from him.

  “We go now,” Bushwacker replied. He had gotten the message from the young man; it was clear enough that he didn't have any time to waste and wasn’t in the mood for small talk. The immense man stood up to his feet, cautious not to bang his head against the wooden ribs of the ceiling, which his head was only a few inches from. Then he drained the last pint of tea in his cup and roared out a name. Soon another giant appeared from the back; a male slave that was much taller and bigger than Bushwacker.

  Nathan reckoned he had to be close to seven feet. He looked well-fed and had on an old, washed-out pair of blue jean trousers with a thousand holes.

  “Go get the boys ready, we got work to do,” he said to the giant in a language Nathan didn’t understand. The slave disappeared with a look of excitement in his eyes.

  “You speak their language,” Nathan said.

  “Yes, I do and that is one of my advantages,” he said, getting into a shirt that was hanging on the chair he was sitting in. “While others were busy teaching them the English language, I spent my time doing the opposite; learning theirs.”

  “That is very smart of you, Mr. Bushwacker,” Nathan said.

  “They learn your language and you’d have no secret from them, you learn theirs and they have no secret from you, plus you are now one step ahead of them because you understand them. I can have a conversation with you in their presence and they wouldn’t understand anything but they couldn’t do the same.”

  “Right!” Jonah said.

  “Now I go get ready for the hunt,” Bushwacker said, heading to the back of the house.

  “We’ll wait outside,” Nathan replied and headed out to join his slaves.

  “As you please.” The giant’s replied, cheerfully.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  I

  t was the first time he was waking up so late; he’d hardly had any sleep during the night and while his wife's snoring threatened to unhinge the door and send the wine glasses on the table to the floor, Longstands lay in bed praying for some sleep. His insomnia wasn’t without a cause; the omen in his Fort wasn’t a good one; he’d never taken a slave’s life in his entire career and it was a conscious decision—a promise he’d made to himself. But he was about to break that oath with the last two lines on the note he’d given to Edwards for Mr. Bushwacker—“When you find them, please do away with them as quietly and as quickly as possible and do it alone, it must look like an accident.”

  Mr. Longstands spent the remaining part of the night trying to justify his decision; on all the islands, the punishment for a recaptured slave was worse than death. In his situation, not only did the slaves commit the abominable by escaping but his family and life was on the brink of collapse due to his son’s stubborn interest in the slave girl. If Ashana was in some way removed from the equation, everything would balance out and return to normal. There would be no marriage, no embarrassment to endure, his wife would regain her sanity and return to England in peace, and Nathan would hand him back his diary.

  As he staggered onto the balcony, he saw Suzanne; she was already there, seated in his favourite chair. “Honey you are up already. Good morning, what a beautiful day,” Longstands greeted her.

  “How are you, Longstands?” Suzanne replied.

  “Wonderful, I am fine,” he answered, immediately sensing that something was amiss. Suzanne was never ever in a good mood in the mornings. What could be the possible reason for her sudden upbeat attitude, this particular morning, Longstands wondered.

  “I made breakfast, come sit,” she said, a misplaced smile perched on her face.

  “Breakfast?” Longstands asked, his suspicion greatly heightened. His wife never touched a spoon unless she needed to use it to eat.

  “Em em…. yes I’d love some breakfast but I really have to go meet with the slaves first and then return for breakfast...Edwards!” Longstands said. The last thing he wanted to do was sit with Suzanne for breakfast; it would never end well. He wasn’t sure how long her pretence would last, and soon he assumed there would be an argument and then a disagreement.

  “Edwards? You sent him along with Nathan remember, Massa Longstands?” she said casually not trying to hide the sarcasm in her tone.

  “Oh yes I did, God, I need him now. Anyway, he should be back before sundown,” Longstands said.

  “Really?”

  “Yes!” Longstands said abruptly, not in the mood to continue any conversation with his wife. He already knew what she was trying to do.

  “Is it very urgent? I mean what you want Edwards to do for you? Because if it is and it’s something I can do, I would surely love to assist you with it. So please don’t hesitate to let me know because the rest of slaves all went to the plantation and there is no one out there to help you with anything,” she said, in one breath.

  “You can’t be serious Suzanne, you can’t!” Longstands didn’t believe what he’d just heard.

  “I said, the slaves all went to do their jobs; that's what they are here for, to work on the plantation not take a vacation. All of them, including the old and the young. My father's plantation needs to be tended and he has you here to see to that, not to run a bloody charity,” she said blatantly.

  In another circumstance, on a different day, Suzanne’s latest disrespect and recent attitude would have been enough to push Mr. Longstands over the edge. At times like this, he’d say to hell with everything and everybody and proceed to do what he wanted and what he really wanted at that point, was to send Suzanne into the sea with a single slap from his right palm. He wanted to put her head under the water and count up to one hundred, over and over and over again. His face turned red and his body shivered from anger, but she wouldn’t stop.

  “And since you are no longer the man my father knew you to be, I have chosen to help out in this period of your distress,” she added.

  “Suzanne!” Longstands cautioned.

  “What has come over you Longstands, moaning over the death of a stupid slave, going after a slave girl so your son could marry her. There is no labour union here, this is the West Indies and for the slaves there is only one thing to do—plant sugar canes. The only other job available on this plantation is the one you are supposed to be doing, which is to make sure they do their jobs. Yours is the easy job and you are failing at it and very miserably,” she said, letting out a cloud of smoke from her mouth then walking away, leaving Longstands to marinate in her statements.

  “I sent Anthony to do your job, Longstands,” she added casually as she walked past him.

  He ignored the voice in his head but it wouldn’t stop urging him—“Do it, do it now, do it now, Longstands–right this moment as she walks past you, grab her in the throat and snuff the life out of her.”

  For a moment Longstands toyed with the thought, struggling to conceal his trembling hands. He needed only but a split second to send the elephant on her back gasping for air. One hard chop to her throat would temporarily disrupt the supply of oxygen to her brain and she would crumb
le to the floor, kicking like one caught in an epileptic tornado. But he was a trained soldier, he knew how to be cool even when the temperature headed north; how to wait for the right moment and he was going to wait.

  So Longstands managed to convince his shaky legs to convey him to the same spot where Suzanne had been previously sitting, he felt like he’d been taken hostage in his own house and his property had been trashed to pieces while he watched powerlessly because his hands and legs were securely tied by his son and wife.

  As they returned from the spot where he had dropped the cassava tubers to fight off the dog the day before, the same dog trotted behind, sometimes running ahead happily as if it had just received a new lease on life. “What could this mean?” Ashana queried, her voice as heavy with suspicion as the cloud before a heavy downpour.

  “I wish I could explain all of this, Ashana but I am just as lost as you are,” he said. It was all too mysterious to him. “The gods are with us Ash, this I am sure about, what else can I say?”

  “What if it’s a crazy dog that slips in and out of madness,” she countered, her voice making an uphill climb.

  Nathan shook his head to the remote possibility of Ashana’s insinuations. “Ash...” he began but Ashana interrupted.

  “And what if the next time it slips back into its madness we are asleep? Have you considered what could happen to us? We would be at her mercy, Jonah; helpless and very vulnerable.”

  Jonah simply shook his head again and shrugged his shoulders. He thought about Ashana’s words and came to the conclusion that Ashana could be right, the dog could be slipping in and out of some form of madness and if they happened to be asleep the next time it was in its mad state, they’d surely be at risk.

  “Think about it Jonah,” she said imploringly. Not only was the fear and lack of trust in the dog abundantly evident in Ashana's voice but also in the way her eyes followed the dog's every movement.

  “She had the chance to harm us last night while we slept but she didn’t. Why would she harm us now if we simply love her and let her know that she is welcome and that we are family,” he added. But Ashana did not reply, she simply gave Jonah a look that indicated that his defence of the dog didn’t carry any weight.

  They sat down to fresh cassava tubers for breakfast. He knew that his next challenge would be to find water; they were running the second day without water, and had no hope of finding any soon. Jonah prayed for some form of miracle. “Is it me or do you feel the same way?”

  “What way? How do you feel, Jonah?” Ashana asked.

  “I mean, isn’t it strange that there is no sign of us being pursued? It just doesn’t seem right, something is up and I really think we should make haste and get going before it gets dark.”

  “You are right,” she said very softly after a moment of hesitation. “I think we should keep moving, we have lost a lot of time but I think we couldn’t have done any better considering the circumstances and obstacles.”

  “You are the source of my strength Ashana, I really couldn’t have done it without you,” he said.

  “Jonah, I love you so much. In this life and in the next, the space that you occupy in my heart will always be yours,” she said, drawing closer to him and resting her head on his shoulder.

  They ate in silence, chewing on the raw cassava Jonah had obtained the night before. After eating and a few minutes of rest, they were on their feet once again.

  “Morne Turner is in that direction,” Jonah said, pointing to the north. He was thirsty and even though the cassava had alleviated some of the stabs of hunger he felt earlier, it didn’t do much about the thirst. He knew Ashana felt the same way and it was her he was worried about. Although he dared not show it, he was secretly scared that if they didn’t get water soon enough, something terrible might happen to them. The distance to Morne Turner was not a stone’s throw away. He only knew that it was to the south from what PaNene told him and from where they were, he could only see the top of what he believed was Morne Turner.

  “We walk in the shade as much as possible; under trees and under bushes. This will keep us from dehydration,” Jonah announced, holding Ashana's hand. “Tora!”

  “What?” Ashana queried.

  “Tora! The dog! We forgot her...” he said, looking alarmed,

  “But Jonah...” Ashana interrupted,

  He ignored her protest, turning around and calling out to the dog.

  “Tora! Tora!,” Jonah called out but there was no sign of the dog. “Where is she?” Jonah said sucking his tongue and whistling. But there was still no sign of the dog. Maybe Ashana was right he thought, it probably slipped back into its madness and they'd probably be safer without her.

  “It must have gone back to where it came from,” Ashana said trying to console Jonah and at the same time discourage him from continuing to call out to the dog. She was greatly relieved that she didn’t have to deal with the mysterious animal any longer.

  Jonah shrugged his shoulders, there was something about the dog that had somehow gotten Jonah. He turned around to continue his walk but didn't stop thinking about how much he was going to miss Tora and wondering why he had gotten so attached to the dog so quickly.

  “Maybe you are right Ashana, I am sorry but there is just something about that dog that really has me wanting her around.”

  “I understand Jonah, but we have to continue moving,” Ashana said holding his hand and taking a step in the direction they were headed.

  “OK,” Jonah said, following suit but they had barely taken their fourth or fifth steps when he heard a bark and she heard it too. “Tora!” he shouted out, turning around sharply.

  “Ruff ruff,” the dog responded.

  “Tora!”

  “Ruff...ruff.. ruff.. ruff.” She was barking continuously, but remained wherever she was.

  “Why is she not coming?” Jonah asked. He didn't expect an answer from Ashana and he quickly ran in the direction of the bark, with Ashana following reluctantly. Is Tora hurt Jonah thought, his pace hastened by the thought.

  “Wait here, Ashana,” he said to Ashana as he entered the bush very cautiously.

  “Don’t stay long, we don’t have much time Jonah,” she shouted back as he got swallowed by the tall grasses.

  “I won’t,” he replied.

  After a few steps into the bush, Jonah stopped and quietly separated the tall grasses with his hands. Tora came into view immediately, about fifteen or so meters from where was hunched over. Her back was turned to Jonah and her tail was wagging vigorously. “Tora,” he whispered a little apprehensively. She turned around briefly, let out a friendly bark and returned her attention to the same spot. Jonah approached the dog a bit relieved but still lost and cautious. It was not until he bent over to touch the dog that he finally saw what held Tora’s attention and why she had remained at that spot waiting for them to join her.

  “Ashana! Ashana!”

  “Jonah!” Ashana called back, very scared. She didn’t know how to interpret Jonah’s tone, he sounded excited but she feared she might be wrong.

  “Yes Ashana, I am fine, come see, come quickly.” He’d sensed the fear in her voice. Ashana waded through the tall green grasses quickly but when she arrived she saw Jonah sitting next to the dog and it didn't make any sense to her, considering the level of excitement she’d heard in Jonah’s voice.

  “Look!” Jonah said.

  She followed Jonah’s finger and was soon staring at a small, slow-flowing stream.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  B

  ushwacker knew exactly where he should look first; the first port of call for escaping slaves was Morne Turner. If the two slaves from Longstands’s Fort hadn’t arrived at Morne Turner by the time he began his chase, there was a great chance he would catch them, Bushwacker calculated, pushing his foot into an old military boot. But if by the time he commenced his search, the slaves had already arrived Morne Turner, it’d become a little more challenging, although not impossible, to tra
ck them down and catch them.

  “We have to get to Morne Turner before they do,” he announced.

  “Where’s that?” Nathan asked.

  “About two hours ride south,” Bushwacker replied.

  “Mount Turner...”

  “Morne Turner,” Bushwacker corrected.

  “Why do we have to get there before they do?” Nathan asked impatiently.

  “Because from Morne Turner, they can choose one of several options; first, they can choose the easiest option and head for Morne Diablotins where some escaped slaves have been living without any challenges….”

  “Escaped slaves living on a hill without any challenges, that’s interesting,” Nathan said very slowly.

  “How interesting?” Bushwacker asked jerking and pulling hard on the lace of his right boot.

  “That’s very courageous of them and I admire that, what I don’t understand is why they can’t be challenged, I mean it is not that I really care,” Nathan said.

  “Well I won’t say they can’t be challenged; it’s more like they haven’t been challenged. Anyways rumour has it that there are four hundred strong Rastafarian men who know the bush better than the snakes and rats and who are very good with their arrows and God-knows whatever other weapons they have.”

  “So there is an army of escaped slaves that lives up that Mountain and who’d assist any escaped slaves that made it to Morne Turner?” Nathan asked with a smirk on his face

  “We don’t know exactly which mountain they live on, we just know that slaves who manage to escape to Morne Turner are picked up by these Rastafarians,” Bushwacker said reluctantly. He’d sensed some form of sarcasm in the young man’s tone and was tempted to tell him to shut up. But Mr. Longstands was a long-time friend of his; their relationship had never suffered any bruises in the past and he wanted it to stay so. “Morne Turner is a significant point for any escaping slave,” he continued trying to keep his temper under control. “Once at the foot of Morne Turner, a slave can also choose not to go up Morne Diablotins but to head to Dublanc River, where it is also rumoured that some boat would pick them up and take them to the island where slavery has been abolished.”